Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
She hip-checked me with a growl. “You suck.”
I grinned like a fool. Yep, I sucked—often and I loved it.
Summer was just getting underway. Campers and pros would be descending on Elmwood in droves, and life at the rink would be nonstop busy. No problem. I was living in the world’s sweetest bubble. At home on my ice, surrounded by all the things and people I loved, having secret sex with a hot cowboy.
If you asked me, Hank and I were both fucking crushing our goals. He was slowly integrating into life in Elmwood while I explored my sexuality and…him. I’d spent my first month at home in his bed or on his horse, which was amazing, but my friends noticed my absence. Especially MK.
She’d shown up at my house unannounced an hour ago with her skates and dragged me to the rink. Like she used to when we were in high school. I was freshly showered and a little tired, but as she was quick to remind me, we hadn’t seen much of each other since I’d been home. And this was fun.
“Okay, I’ll let you win the next game,” I teased.
MK punched my biceps. “No, I will kick your ass fair and square. But winner buys a burger…and I’m hungry, Hotshot. Feed me.”
That was how we ended up at the diner on a Thursday night, huddled in our usual booth under a funky starburst chandelier, scarfing fries and catching up on hockey news and town gossip.
“Let me get this straight—Steph is dating…Jack, the guy with the tiny nose and the mullet?” I asked, slurping my milkshake.
“Mmhmm. It’s new, and she says he’s hot in bed.” MK waggled her eyebrows.
I barked a laugh. “Ew. Please stop.”
She snickered, kicking my calf under the table. “You’re funny. Can I make a totally annoying, eye-rolling comment?”
I preemptively rolled my eyes. “Go for it.”
“You look happy. Are you sure you aren’t dating anyone?”
“I’m not.” I cocked my head. “You don’t believe me.”
That was okay by me. Our honesty policy didn’t extend to summer-based propositions with visiting cowboys. I supposed I could have told her about Hank. I trusted MK with my life. The thing was…I didn’t want to pop my happy bubble by talking about my sexuality with my ex. That felt heavy. Nothing about Hank and me was heavy.
We discussed lighthearted topics on horseback and contemplated the stars on his deck with glasses of wine after fucking our brains out. I’d learned more about Star Wars and the damn Mandalorian in the past few weeks than I’d ever admit, and it was…fun.
MK held her hands up in surrender. “I do, I do. Just an observation. One more observation…your cowboy friend is hot.”
I almost choked on my shake. I averted my gaze and cleared my throat.
“He’s not a cowboy. He just owns horses.”
“Whatever. He’s still hot,” she chirped. “You see a lot of him, huh?”
“We’re friends and he’s my, um…equine therapist.” I replayed those last two words in my head and decided that was close enough to the truth. “Did you know horses help with anxiety?”
“No. Huh, that’s cool. I thought he ran the mill, though. How can he do both?”
“I think I’m his only client here,” I said. And now…on to something else. “Who do you think needs a new goalie next season?”
MK didn’t take the bait. “Hmm. I’d have to think about it. You know…Micah and Niall are still down on the new guy for the usual reasons. If you’re buddies with him, you should bring him around, like to the barbecue.”
I was lost. “What barbecue?”
“Smitty and Bryson’s Start of Summer barbecue, dummy.”
“Oh. Right. Good idea.” Great idea, actually. I chomped a few fries, dragging them through the last of the ketchup on my plate. I reached for the bottle and held it up. “No judging.”
“I’m not judging, I’m—”
“You’re…” I prodded as the first warning bell sounded in my head. “What’s up?”
She nibbled her bottom lip and blurted, “Sometimes I wish we were still together.”
I froze. “Oh…”
Mary-Kate made a funny noise, half cry, half squeak. “Don’t say anything. You don’t feel the same way…I get it. I wish I knew what happened. I wish I could undo whatever I did and—”
“Hey, stop.” I grabbed her wrist and laced our fingers. “You didn’t do anything.”
“Then what—never mind.” She waved as if erasing an invisible chalkboard between us. “I’m sorry. We already did that dance. There’s no reason to rehash anything. Tell me about riding horses. Maybe I should try. Is he giving lessons? Vinnie and Nolan’s kids would love that too and…”
I pushed the ketchup aside and took a sip of water. My mouth was dry as dust as I nodded along, grateful she didn’t expect a response. Good, ’cause guilt was a hard pill to swallow.
I hated that I’d hurt her, but I wasn’t sorry I’d initiated the breakup. Shared high school memories, afternoons at the rink, post-practice fries at the diner, or a drink at the Black Horse weren’t enough. It wasn’t the distance, like I’d told her. It was a feeling in my gut that I couldn’t ignore.